And She Said Love Is For Children
by EliseLongden
Summary: A smut that I wrote about Natasha and Clint. It based pre-Avengers, when Barton and Romanoff are partners and are working together. At the moment its just a one-shot, but if it gets a positive enough reaction, I'll carry on with it. It was so much fun to write, but took longer than most of my fics, so I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading! (If you do) C:


Natasha Romanoff, or more affectionately known as 'the' Black Widow, was what might you call 'sat' on a chair in the middle of a annoyingly bright lit room. Her hands were strapped onto the armrests, and she could feel the pinch of splinters of the old wood biting into the pale skin of her inner forearm. Her feet were strapped to the chair legs, although she could move them a little if she really tried. She wore a long and somewhat elegant navy dress that twisted around her ankles, which were just visible. The dress was embroidered with tiny crystals, that swirled around the fabric like miniature stars. A slit ran up to her left upper thigh, and it revealed several dark grey bruises that splotched against her pale skin. There was a thin and shallow cut just below her collarbone, and it bled into the low neckline of the dress and darkened it. Her lips were dry and white, and she licked them constantly. Her head was thrown forward, as if exhausted and her brilliant red curly hair was tossed around her face like a mane. It covered her eyes and was matted, so she couldn't see, Blood dripped steadily from her nose and landed on her stomach.

She sighed and turned her gaze upwards, into the light. She winced and its fierce glow and turned her head to the side slightly with a whimpering sigh. A fist came out of nowhere and smashed into the corner of her mouth. Natasha felt it burst, and warm blood began to slide from between her lips, and she coughed, feeling around for a damaged tooth.  
"If you've chipped any of my teeth I am going to kill you." she stated calmly with an edge of sarcasm. She shifted in her chair. The was no answer, but a hand reached out a tilted her chin up and squeezed her cheeks playfully. The hand was soft, Nat noted and nimble. It pushed her head back in a rough gesture. A laugh filled the room, it was quiet and reasonably childish but had an air of malice and spite that was distinctly chilling. The hand reached up and brushed the hair out of her face, so she could see. She looked up.

A woman was standing there. She was petite and skinny, but she stood with such open confidence that just radiated pride. Her face was round and curvy and her eyes were acid green. Her hair was white and it spiraled into a knot at the back of her head, where several strands were lose. The woman tapped her thin fingers against her thigh, imitating impatience. Her nails were long and perfectly manicured, which portrayed her arrogance. She opened her mouth to speak.  
"You know" she said, stepping backwards and gazing at Natasha thoughtfully, "For the famous Black Widow; slayer and seductress of men, I have to admit that I thought you'd be a hell of a lot prettier."  
Natasha smirked, enjoying the new form of capture that did not involve men drooling over her. It was a different kind of intriguing, but it wasn't only men that could fall prey to her wits.  
"Well, considering I was expecting a sleazy and frankly too sweaty male criminal mastermind, I have to say that you've barely exceeded my expectations either"  
The woman laughed, leaning in. "Oh I have heard about you petty insults, your little temper does get you into sticky situations."  
"You've heard of me then?" she said, raising her eyebrow.  
"Straight down to business? I am surprised. I thought you would carry on with your pathetic facade for a while longer."  
"Facade?" she questioned, forcing her voice to sound bored.  
"Do you know who I am?"  
"Dont answer a question with a question, it deletes the significance of both of them"  
The woman grinned and crouched down so her vivid green eyes were level with Natasha's brown ones. The woman leant forward so their noses were and inch apart. She could smell the sweet scent of her perfume on her skin.  
"My name" the woman stood tall and proud, "Is Ivory. And I am the last face you shall ever see"  
Natasha snorted and threw her head forwards "Now _tha_t was melodramatic. If you had any idea how many people have ever said that to me, you wouldn't even dare to look me in the eye ever again."  
Ivory's face changed into a snarl and without any hint of a hesitation reached underneath her skirt and pulled out a pistol in a fluid motion. She held it to Black Widow's for head and her finger itched on the trigger. Natasha didn't react, and she blinked lazily  
"If you had any idea what I've done-" Ivory began.  
"Of course I know." she stated. "I know _exactly_, in every detail what you have done, Ivory. I know every secret of your 'secret' organization, I know every nook and cranny of every storage facility of were you hold the experiments. I know _everything. "_  
Ivory's hand shook violently and her face became masked with fear.  
"How the _hell _could you know that?!" hissed Ivory, spittle flying carelessly from her mouth. She had lost her composure completely. Her hand shot out and gripped Natasha by the throat. The pistol was pressed against the left side of her temple. Natasha smiled up at her impishly, seeming not to notice the fingers tightening on her throat.  
"I swear to god if you don't tell me how you know, I will blow your brains out!" Ivory snarled. "Who do you work for? Why are you here?"  
"Tut tut, Ivory, you're asking all of the wrong questions..."  
Ivory slammed the butt of the gun into the side of Black Widow's head. She gasped as her vision blurred, but she still managed to smirk and rolls her eyes dizzily.  
"Tell me!" screamed Ivory, fear clouding her vision.  
"I'm just resourceful enough to pass through all of your high tech security. Scary, isn't it?"  
"Oh, the deadly Black Widow, if you're so smart" purred Ivory, stroking the gun across her temple. And clenching her neck harder,"Why oh why did you come here alone?"  
The Black Widow laughed, and tossed her hair back. She smiled coyly, and like a stereotypical spy, hissed out words that were full of victory and venom. She blinked slowly, studying her eyes. "Now who ever said I came here alone?"

It took a few milliseconds for Ivory to process what she had said. Her eyes were confused. Natasha whipped her head and bit aggressively into the fingers holding the gun, tasting metallic blood between her teeth. Ivory yelled and thrashed, and her finger tightened on the trigger and fired a bullet. The bullet missed Nat by a millimetre, which frankly was extremely irritating to her, because it should not of even come close. Ivory went into a frenzy and vainly attempted to attack Nat. Her finger nails dug into her face, drawing a little blood. Nay twisted her head out of her grasp and shook her hair out of her eyes. A figure approached behind Ivory, ripped her off Nat, and tossed her to the floor like a ragdoll. She clambered up only to be knocked down again by a fierce uppercut to the chin, where she stayed motionless.

Hawkeye approached, walking solidly to where Black Widow was. He smiled awkwardly and the rips on her dress and the blood that caked her body. His eyes were wide and apologetic. He pulled out a black metal instrument from his belt pouch And he began work on the locks that kept Nat immobile. She glared at him.  
"You're late." she said in a monotone.  
Clint looked up, and winced over theatrically "Yeah..." he paused, "I got held up in the vents...turns out that they're not exactly designed to be crawled through."  
"By two hours, if you want me to be precise." She muttered. Clint didn't look up and carried on with the scratching at the lock on her right arm. After a few well thought out turns and twists, it sprang free, and so did Natasha's arm. She punched Clint square across the jaw, not bothering with the courteousness of slapping that society deemed fit. He withdrew and rubbed the red indent that was left by her fist.  
"Good punch" he said honestly.  
"My pleasure" she replied beginning to smile. Clint leaned in and they kissed briefly, and slowly, ignoring the blood! They both grinned underneath each others lips. Clint pulled away.  
"So where are the keys?" he said nodding to the lock. Nat smiled and gestured to the unconscious Ivory on the floor.  
"In that bitch's trouser pocket." she said. "Left pocket" she added.  
Clint fetched the keys and undid the locks on her left wrist and ankles. She stood, and stretched up and down, enjoying the feeling of it. She shook out her hair and rubbed her wrist gently. She stood tall and scratched some of the blood off her chest. She was well aware of Clint watching her.  
"Errr, Nat?" he said apprehensively.  
"Hmmm?" she murmured, leaning against the wall.  
"Have you actually seen you dress..?"  
"I'm sorry?"  
"I mean, if you look at it, its not really much of a dress anymore, its more like two pieces of transparent crystal strewn fabric joined at the shoulder and the knees, where underneath, lies an incredibly see-through bra"  
"Is it bothering you?" she breathed softly, stepping forwards where his arms where waiting. Her hands crept up to the back of his neck and stroked his hair. His arms wrapped around her waist, and she could feel the muscles beneath his skin.  
"Not at all" he muttered, placing a kiss at her neck, "But I should inform you that the S.H.I.E.L.D team shall be here in around 45 minutes"  
Nat smiled and put her hands on his chest. "Sorry to go a little off topic here, but did you take out all the guards?"  
"Every one" he whispered, his hands tangling in her crimson hair.  
"Good" she managed to get out before their lips collided. They kissed each other fiercely, both of their hands wandering. Their lips moved together, moulding around each other. Natasha felt a burning sensation travel from her working lips to the lips of her toes, and she stood up on her tiptoes so she could kiss him better. His hands grasped her waist, providing her support to lean against as she angled herself upwards. They way they kissed was hasty, with an air of chaotic hunger. They grappled for each other, pressing themselves as close as they could get, chest against chest. They could feel each others heartbeats. Natasha's hands wandered to his back, and she could feel the coiled tension beneath her trembling fingertips. She moved her fingers in circular rotations and pressed them hard against his back, savouring the heat and pulse beneath them. She felt like her whole existence was on fire; she was a torched beacon of lust.

Clint drew away quickly, with the air of attitude that one could apply to ripping off a plaster. He gasped for breath as he stepped back, and his cheekbones were flushed pink. His hands went to the thick leather of his arrow quiver, and he fumbled with it for a few seconds before wrenching it off. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter, and a couple of arrows tumbled out. With his foot, he pushed them to the other side of the room, where they hit a smooth wooden table and rolled to a stop. He slipped off his shoes and kicked them away. His hands then went to the neck of his T-shirt and he pulled it off in a fluid motion.

Natasha gazed at his exposed chest, regarding it with a startling look of approval. His abs were chiseled and well cut, and were rippled with a few small scars. A bigger scar sat on his left shoulder; a pale thing about the size of a coin, with red edges. It was a ragged circle, and marked the place where somebody had come close to killing him. It was raised a little against his skin and looked old. Natasha knew that scar well, after all, she was the one who caused it.

He bent forward and began to apply kisses to the inside of her neck. Her hands went to the tattered scraps of her one beautiful dress and began to try and remove it. The fingers traced against the silky fabric, searching for a handhold. She attempted to slip out of it smoothly, and leave it at the feet, but the rips and tears made it impossible. Natasha searched for another way to remove it with disturbing what Clint was doing. She ran her hands over herself nervously. Eventually, she gave up and snatched the intentional slit on her upper thigh and tore upwards, splitting it down the front of her chest. Tiny crystals spilled everywhere, and before anything else, Nat removed her bra and let it drop to her feet. Clint raised his head, gazing at the matted mess of bruises that was her body. Natasha felt a blush rise to her face, and she looked down at herself, taking note of all of the imperfections that littered her skin. She had feeling of embarrassment inside her gut, one that wanted her to turn away and hang her head, or pick up the discarded remains of her clothing off the floor and cover up this _mess. _She drew into herself, changing into the mask of cool stiffness that she wore everyday. It was her game face. It was the expression she used when she was terrified. _Itis childish_, she thought, _tofeeldiscomfortinmyownbody. I am familiar with all sortsofmen, perverts even, staringatmeandonlyseeingmybody, butyetthisIamcompletelydumfoundedby. _Her indignation evaporated when Clint cautiously lifted his hand and reached towards her. It was replaced by a sick sort of terror that pooled in the back of her throat like acid. She was accustomed to deal with all sorts of fear, from death threats to torture, which both she had faced, but she had never felt anything like this. Natasha's whole mind was filled with the yearning to be accepted by the one person she held dear. The only thing she could think about was that she want to be welcomed into his arms; to be reassured that she was indeed not just a body covered with bruises, but a human being.

The back of his finger trailed against her chest, and she sucked in a breath. She could feel her fight or flight reflexes starting to emerge, although this was hardly something she could run away from. A ridiculous urge to run filled her brain, and it took most of her strength to keep her feet flat on the floor. She stood there, like a gladiator waiting to be judged, and she let out a shaky breath.  
"You're beautiful Natasha" Clint murmured, with an affection littering his voice. He appraised her curves and figure with admiring eyes.  
That was all it took, she threw herself against him, drowning in the bliss of acceptance. He stumbled back, evidently surprised, and the base of his spine thudded against the wooden table. She kissed him swiftly on the mouth and reached down to undo his trousers. She glanced up to see his eyes widen slightly, and she smirked at him playfully. She slid the trousers off him and threw them away, and they landed with a muffled thump in the corner of the room. They lined up their bodies, and kissed each other deeply, taking deep gasps every few seconds. Clint's hands moved to Natasha's hips and she pressed her crotch against his. His thumbs hooked underneath her underwear, and he peered at her, as if waiting for approval. She smiled in response and he slipped them off her, his hands running down the quirks of her toned thighs. She did the same to him, yet a little bit more cautiously, but she liked the feeling of his powerful legs against her soft palms. She pushed him back gently, trying to subtlety persuade him to sit on the table. He complied and sat with his legs hanging of the edge, and his erection poking up towards the ceiling. Natasha rested her feet against the edge of the table and pulled herself up so she was next to him. He reached over and gently rubbed between her legs, and a consuming shiver ran down her spine. Natasha slid her thigh next to his and straddled him. She could feel his length pressing against her entrance and she could feel a pleasant warm spread between her thighs. Natasha looked down at him, for she was kneeling above him, and their eyes met and they both saw lust in each others eyes. Clint rubbed himself against her slowly, but even the minimum of contact drove them both insane. Natasha slid onto him, and she moaned softly, adjusting to his size. Natasha gradually began to move in a steady pace, her eyes narrowing in a joyful relish. Clint pushed himself fully into her and she let out a shaky moan. They moved together, enraptured with each other, and they stayed like that for a few more thrust until their lust took over.

A thin sheen of sweat lined both of their bare bodies, making the bright lights from the ceiling beam off their skin. Clint and Natasha picked up their pace and a consuming pleasure took over all of their senses. Natasha grabbed his shoulders, and bounced up and down upon him, as fast as she could go, letting out a long moan of rapture. She could feel a string in her stomach tightening, wanting to be released. Her breaths were short and shaky, and she was half aware of Clint panting beneath her He reached up and brushed her scarlet hair to her forehead and fixed his eyes on her face.. They were both reaching the point of climax, and they worked together, furiously pounding against each other.

His hand reached for her sex and rubbed her clit gently. She put her hands on his shoulders and used them for support to lift herself up and down. Her nails dug in as she moved faster, and her eyes slipped closed and she gasped wildly as he moved faster. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, loud and insistent, and she's began to shudder. Her moans of pleasure filled his ears; a sound that forced him to hold on, and to not stop. She began to lose her rhythm, lost in a vortex of intense feeling and Clint lifted her up and down, keeping the same delicious pace. Soon, Natasha could feel the sensitive walls clenching inside her, bringing her to immense levels. Her whole body vibrated and her teeth gritted. Her control broke and she let out a long yet quiet cry of joy. She felt his release and heard his abrupt moan and she came; letting the dam burst inside of her. She yelled and shuddered beneath him; half aware of his hands rubbing and stroking her body. Her mouth open. in an expression of extraordinary surprise, here senses exploding in a white hot burst of sensation.

Clint fell back, sucking in deep breaths, and Natasha fell on top of him, her cleavage pressed onto his chest. Her ears whistled and her vision blurred as all of her other senses were dulled. Her hands curled into firm balls and she buried her face into his neck, feeling his pulse against her lips. His hands were stroking her back softly, and they were rough from almost always holding the string of a bow. She shifted her weight and looked at him, he beamed at her. She smirked gently, too tired to do anything more than lift her head. They lay there in borrowed peace for a few moments, listening to each others breaths and feeling one another's skin burn. Their limbs we're tangled together, and they lay there in their own personal bubble of satisfaction.

Eventually, when their hearts had stopped their frantic pounding, and when their breaths returned to normal, they dislocated themselves from each other. Natasha stood first, stretching up to the ceiling and leering out a strangled yawn. She stumbled a little on her feet, and Clint rose up fast enough to catch her before she fell. His hands rested on each side of her navel, and she grinned at him gratefully.  
"Whoops" she muttered.  
Clint began to pick up the clothing from around the room, he collected it hurriedly, and kept on glancing at his watch with an air of nerves. He handed Natasha's clothes to her, and glanced absentmindedly at the unconscious Ivory who was spread-eagle on the ground.  
"You know," he said evenly, pulling on his boxers, "I completely forget about her"  
"Me too" said Natasha, clipping on her bra. She pushed her hair out of face and caught his eye. A smile spread across both of their faces, and within seconds, they were both hysterical; leaning against each other in a struggled attempt to stand. Their laughter echoed around the dull room, filled the space with child like giggles.  
"Wouldn't it of been funny if she woke up, and she saw _that._" exclaimed Natasha, pulling on her underwear.  
"Now that would of been something to behold" he remarked, pulling on his shirt and trousers.  
"Could you imagine her _face?" _  
They laughed again, grinning at each other like children. They placed a kiss on each others lips.  
"What if she did wake up and saw us, well, you know, and _fainted?" _pondered Clint.  
Nat grinned, "Well if she did, and if she ever mentions it to anybody, she'll find herself in a remarkably dangerous feud with two master assassins..." Clint opened his mouth to say something, probably something sarcastic, but was interrupted by a loud and demanding knock on the door.  
"S.H.I.E.L.D!" a male voice yelled "Open up!"  
Natasha and Clint looked to the door and then to each other. They regarded their sweaty faces and Nat's messy hair, but more importantly Natasha's lack of clothing. They turned their gazes to the shredded dress on the floor.  
"Agent Barton? Agent Romanoff?" demanded the voice "You in there?"  
Clint swore beneath his breath and Natasha's face went red. She went to the door and placed a light palm on the handle. She turned to him, her eyes wide.  
"Well this is going to take some explaining." she huffed simply.


End file.
